Hold You In
by things.done
Summary: Post-BD. sort of cannon, A/J, when the Cullens are split by a terrible fight over their future, A&J are left alone to confront ghosts from their pasts.
1. Chapter 1: 2037 Warm

A/N: I don't own any of these characters. I'm just messing about with their futures.

I'm working on the second chapter now and I would really appreciate any reviews -- good or bad. I have no idea what I'm doing.

***

The house was theirs. Rosalie and Emmett were somewhere in Patagonia, Carlisle had taken Esme to their island and Edward and Bella...well, the less said of that the better.

The stillness of the house suited him, especially after the frenetic weeks of drowning in emotions not his. Alice would never say as much but he knew she was relieved by the silence. With those closest to her, those whose lives were so intertwined with hers, seeing their futures wasn't really something she could stop. Their futures changed with every fight, almost with every word and she was attacked with vision after vision. Vampires were not supposed to grow fatigued, were not supposed to change but he could see in her eyes, in the way she moved, in the way she forgot to keep breathing and in the crushing exhaustion that he felt so painfully from her tiny body.

He was sitting in an ancient wing-backed chair. The wood in the chair smelled old and comforting. He had a book tucked into his lap. A gift from Carlisle, it was a best-seller purporting to have previously unpublished firsthand accounts of the Civil War. Jasper had been dubious, though appreciated the gesture. To his surprise, he thought he recognized a name. To his shame, he could not bring himself to care.

Alice lay on the rug on the floor of the library, just beyond his reach. She'd lit a fire. He had noticed with no small alarm that she had taken to doing oddly human things. Things that people did in films and books when they wanted to comfort themselves. She'd even made a pot of tea once because, she said, she liked the smell of it.

Next to her was a towering pile of magazines. He felt a flash of annoyance. Bella, in particular, dismissed Alice's "fetish" (as Bella had described it) for fashion. As he watched, she made meticulous notations in her leather-bound notebook. It wasn't a fetish, it was love. She loved the colors and their endless combinations, the feel and smell of the fabrics, the cuts and shapes. It was, she'd said, thought made real. Every season filled a new notebook. She followed design houses, individual designers, color trends, hemlines and heel heights. Something about it broke his heart. She had, like the rest of their blighted species, perfect recall. She could go the rest of her life without having to commit a single piece of information to paper. It was all safely tucked away in her head. He knew, though, of the satisfaction in the ritual and of the contentment that was now shining like a star in her mind.

Thinking of her love for fabrics reminded him of a particularly exquisite piece of crimson silk, trimmed with ivory lace, that had barely protected her modesty on their first night together. He put his book down, all thoughts of dead soldiers abandoned. He closed his eyes and reached out to her body with his extra sense. It was a rarity, catching her off guard, and he enjoyed the indignant squeal as her body responded to his suggestions.

"Jasper Whitlock! You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she said, her face scrunched in pretend fury. It was pretend, he knew; when Alice was truly angry, her face was blank and terrifying.

Before he could protest his innocence, she pounced. In the action of an instant, he found himself on his back on the hardwood floor, the chair's shattered pieces still hanging in the air. Then, she was on him. Holding him. She felt warm from having lain so close to the fire. Again he felt that twinge of alarm. It was reckless to be so close to the only thing that posed any real danger to their kind.

"Sorry," she said, though she didn't mean it and he didn't care.

"As lovely as the floor is, why don't we retire to a more comfortable chair," he said, his words rounded by the remnants of his former life. It was always like this for them. His accent became more pronounced and her vocabulary slid into decades past as they relaxed into their true selves.

He swept them into the twin of the destroyed chair. He was upright. She was in his lap, her feet dangling over the arm of the chair.

She sighed and snuggled into him, her ear over where his heart should beat. He held her that way, like a child, the intimacy of their long years together making him as sure of her thoughts as Edward could ever be. She was melancholy, longing, sadness and still the dull throb of exhaustion. He made a decision and waited, knowing she would See. When she didn't protest, he reached out for her again with his mind but this time filled her with the same relaxed contentment he'd disturbed.

As swiftly as he could without capsizing her, he freed a cashmere blanked that had been hanging on the back of his chair. Wordlessly he covered her with it, carefully wrapping up her stockinged feet and tucking her into the blanket up to her neck. He was pleased with the result. She looked like a mummy.

He met her eyes and she was grinning.

"Jasper, I'm pretty sure I can't move," she said, and laughed.

"Mission accomplished," he said, "you can't escape me now." He pulled her tighter and she protested. Perhaps he had squeezed too hard. He got a sharp elbow in the ribs for his trouble. She freed her arms and wiggled to loosen the blanket. She could, of course, reduce the blanket to its constituent parts in a matter of seconds but the instinct to appear human was the keystone to normality.

They settled into silence again. He found himself wishing he was in a rocking chair, so he could hold her like this and ease her heart the way his mother had done for him.

"I just miss them," she said after a few minutes. "I know I'm relieved its over, but I feel so," and she gestured with her hands as though she could draw the word from the air, "temporary."

"The temporary immortal?" he asked and was rewarded with a colossal eye-roll.

She shifted to sit up more and look into his face.

"They're my family, our family, and it's not supposed to break up--"

"No one is breaking up, just taking a break," he corrected.

"Whatever," she shook her head, impatient. "it just seemed too easy for them to walk away. There were times, you know…." She didn't finish the sentence and didn't have to. He knew she'd seen visions of the family splintered for decades or centuries rather than months.

"I've never felt that way, temporary and changeable," she got up and walked closer to the fire, pacing. "Everything is certain for me, or it used to be." She turned to him, "This is what I know! They're my family, you're my husband, happily ever after." She waved her hands around again and he wished she would stand a bit further from the fire.

He hated his helplessness. He wanted her to laugh, to smile and banish the exhaustion. A memory of a happier Alice came to mind.

"I could always get you drunk again," he said. At first he thought she was going to be annoyed at the abrupt subject change but after a heart's beat she burst into laughter.

"Oh my God, Jasper, remember Esme?" She got the words out between fits of giggles

"She--she said," but Alice was overcome so Jasper continued.

"She said I was a bad influence and a scoundrel," he said.

"Then half an hour--"

"More like ten minutes."

"She comes to our room asking to feel two-glasses-of-wine drunk" Jasper said, "and I obliged. I may have made her feel slightly more than that."

He smiled at the memory of Esme, hugging them all and telling them over and over how much she loved everyone, how she didn't tell them enough, how lucky they all were to have met and how beautiful the whole world was. It had been well worth the hours spent studying bar patrons with Alice.

"Oh, Edward was not amused," Alice said, her fits of laughter slowing.

"He was livid. He didn't speak to me for a week," Jasper said.

"Well," Alice said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor, "we'd only been with them a bit over a year."

Jasper arranged his face into an exaggerated look of warm nostalgia.

"Ahh, it was the first of many episodes of Edward not speaking to me."

"You are intolerable, I swear. He never did anything to you but you persist in winding him up like a toy," Alice scolded him.

"But," he said, jumping from his chair, "that is where you are wrong ma'am." He pulled Alice up and began waltzing her around the room.

"He is wound too tightly and I performed a most valuable service," Jasper said, continuing to dance.

"Goading someone until they are too pissed off to speak with you is hardly a service," Alice said, but there was no real annoyance in her voice. As he'd hoped, she was happy again, distracted for the moment.

"Ah, the service wasn't to him," he said, dipping and kissing her before continuing.

"Emmett was endlessly amused."

Another eye-roll.

He twirled her around the warm room, filling the night with her laughter.

***


	2. Chapter 2: Fangs and fowl

A/N: Well, this is fun. Hope you enjoy it. I used to mock people who begged for reviews. I mock no more. Good, bad or ugly, I'd like to hear what you think.

Bella worships Edward. Jasper does not worship Edward. This is Jasper's story but I don't think I've strayed into OOC territory.

***

Basketball was an exercise in restraint. It was a test of his concentration not to explode the ball or bend the rim or crush the pavement. When he played against Emmett, the extra element of difficulty was in making sure that every missed shot deflected at precisely the angle required to smash into his face. Emmett was too fast to be hit, but it was one of the thousands of rules they'd concocted over the years to make sports more interesting. Their Rules for Vampire Golf comprised 72 sections and required 14 extra clubs and the frequent use of roller-skates and a kayak.

At that precise moment, Jasper was deliberately not thinking of his self-proclaimed "brother from another mother." He was providing commentary for his game as he played.

"_Well, folks, I think it's safe to say we haven't seen a young player with so much talent and power since Michael Jordan. He's clearly the best player of the last 40 years, maybe of all time."_

Jasper fought off invisible defenders and continued.

"_I hear he's been offered over a billion in endorsements but he still won't say yes, what integrity! He's also been linked with countless starlets and models…"_

He felt Alice approach and pretended not to notice.

"_...but he's remained true to his childhood sweetheart Alice Brandon."_

He wheeled around and found Alice standing atop the basketball hoop.

"_He shoots! He sco--"_

"He misses completely and loses the whole game!" Alice said gleefully as she intercepted his shot. She dropped from the hoop with that unnatural grace all vampires share.

Jasper was delighted with her good mood. She even looked like his Alice again. Almost as soon as the thought appeared, however, her mood slid away from him. Her happiness was so quick to burn off these days. Her return to sadness was as tangibly painful to him as a slap across the face.

"Can we talk?" she asked, already turning to go back into the house.

"Sure," he said, his voice masking his sudden fear. "Toss me the ball and I'll be right behind you."

"What?" she said, stopping. She looked absently at the ball still in her hands. "Oh, right. Sorry," she said and threw it over her shoulder to him.

He caught the missile, barely, as it sped towards him but it burst in his hands. If Alice noticed, she didn't say, and he counted the 3,842nd reason to be worried about her.

She was already lying on the plush couch when he joined her inside. Unsure of himself, he sat on the ottoman in front of her.

"Jasper," she whispered, "how did we get here?"

He dropped his head to his hands. It was inevitable that she would find some way to blame herself. At that moment, he would have merrily ripped apart any member of his "family" upon whom he could lay the blame for her sadness. Unfair though it was, they were all probably partially to blame and he was helpless, again.

He was still for over a minute while he considered an answer. He was distracted, by the sweetness of Alice's gardenia perfume, by the ticking of the wall clock in the upstairs library and by the certainty that no truthful answer would be welcome.

"Inertia," he said, finally. "We were always going to end up here without some extraordinary intervention."

"Why didn't I see it? I might have prevented this," her voice was so muted he actually found it difficult to hear her. He reached out for her and she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her cheek, closing her eyes. Though no tears would ever come, she was crying.

"Oh, Alice, you are no more to blame for this clusterfuck--"

She raised an eyebrow.

"--whatever, this mess, this shitstorm than any of the rest of us," he said, his irritation rising. He cast his mind back. Truth be told, he'd spent many hours trying to figure out the how a fight could so easily fling his family to the four corners. With the almighty fight centering as it did around Renesmee, it would have been easy to place the blame at her feet. Easy but unfair. They had all been so relieved by the non-battle with the Volturi that their indulgences could perhaps be forgiven. Bella's new-born vampire's impetuousness and temper had not been curbed. Edward could not refuse anything to his wife and daughter and expected the same of everyone. It was easy to forgive and look over the tiny cracks when there was such happiness to be had.

It was only when things went wrong, when the outside world intruded upon their lives, that the cracks were revealed as canyons. By then it was too late.

"What do you mean, inertia?" Alice asked, frowning at him but still clasping his hand.

"Well," he said, "don't you remember all of the tiny fights and disagreements? I just think they were building up to an inevitable split--"

Alice's wave of desperation at hearing his poorly chosen word nearly choked him.

"--or vacation or whatever," he finished lamely.

"Fights?" she asked, quizzically. He tested her feelings. She was still sad but more peaceful and a little curious, hopeful that it wasn't her fault. He could feel her drawing strength from him and he vowed for the 9,845,912th time to do more to deserve her trust and devotion.

Instead of answering her right away he kissed her forehead.

"Would you like me to light another fire, sweetness?" he murmured as he inhaled the sweet smell of her skin, her hair, her Alice-ness.

"Yes, please," she said and wiggled further down into the couch. He was silent as he lit a fire in the glass-fronted fireplace. After it seemed able to thrive on its own, he returned to the ottoman. She'd pulled a down blanket from somewhere and had tried to wrap herself up as Jasper had done.

He sniffed.

"Ugh, that smells foul. Like ducks," he said, crinkling his nose.

She giggled.

"Does it smell fowl?" she asked, clearly holding in more laughter.

"Oh Alice, I'm pretty sure puns went out of fashion with the Charleston. That was bad, even for you," he said.

"Well, you would know, old man," she shot back. He may have stuck his tongue out at her.

"Oh go on," she said, "tell me about these 'fights and disagreements' as you called them."

He paused.

"Well, the first real one I can think of is the Fang Incident."

**The Fang Incident**

**Summer, 2009**

It was a bright morning after a breakfast (of sorts) and Jasper sat reading the newspaper on a stool at the bar in the kitchen. They never used the kitchen and Jasper sometimes felt irrationally sorry for it and made a point to sit in it sometimes. He tried not to wonder what that said about him.

In the airy living room, Alice was watching television. She had, of course, already read the paper and filled in the crossword. It was one of the hundreds of tiny rituals that made up their marriage.

She was shouting at the television.

"No! Don't do it Lafayette!"

He lowered the paper and stared at her.

"Honey, he can't hear you," Jasper said.

She raised an eyebrow and pressed pause on their DVR.

"Thanks, Jas," she said drily.

"My pleasure. What _are_ you watching, anyway?" he asked, putting the paper down.

She lit up and clapped her hands together.

"It's a show about vampires! Not like us, but like Anne Rice sort of. They can drink from humans and not kill them and it's hilarious." She abandoned one train of thought and jumped to the next. "Oh my God, it would be so much fun to visit the set. I could steal some fangs." She unfolded her legs and was suddenly in motion.

"You know," she said, "we got the shitty parts of the vampire business and none of the fun stuff like fangs and turning into bats." She seemed genuinely disappointed.

"Did this only just occur to you, Alice? After how many years?" Jasper's teasing was undermined by his complete inability to be in proximity to his wife without touching her. He abandoned his perch at the bar and met her as she walked from the living room. She was offering him a selection of hand gestures. He leaned in to kiss her but she flew from his grasp and landed gracefully on the bar.

"You cannot catch me, FOR I AM VAMPIRE! MUAHAHAHA!" she said in a strong but unidentifiable accent. He looked up at her as she prowled the bar making what she clearly thought were menacing faces.

"Oh Vampire--"

"Please address me as "Terrifying Vampire Overlord" or face dire consequences," she shouted down to him.

"Fine. Oh, Terrifying Vampire Overlord! Where is your home? For you sound like you have travelled many miles but I cannot tell if you are from Kyrzykstan or Guatemala, oh Terrifying Vampire Overlord!" Jasper bowed deeply and narrowly missed being hit by a flying shoe.

"You have angered me, mortal! I am from Transylvania and," she stopped briefly, smiling brightly as Ness, Edward and Bella walked into the house. She leapt from the kitchen counter and landed a few feet in front of Ness, who giggled nervously. Alice exaggeratedly crept toward the child in a terrible impersonation of Bela Lugosi.

"I am from Transylvania and I vant to drink your blood," she said, taking a step with every word until she sprung on Nessie. The child collapsed in giggles as she was thoroughly tickled by her second favorite aunt. After a matter of seconds Alice froze, bristling.

"Yeah, Alice, that's right," Edward said, clearly replying to a vision he saw in her head, "I don't appreciate you treating our lives as vampires with such careless disrespect in front of my daughter. And I really can't believe I have to ask you to refrain from using such language when she is present."

Alice was stilled by shock. She had done nothing to deserve the venom in his voice. Bella warily watched the exchange and Jasper fought the nearly overwhelming urge to knock an inch or two off of Edward's height. Nessie looked confused and close to tears. Edward knelt and turned her to face him.

"Being a vampire is a serious responsibility and our decision to respect the sanctity of human life means that we have to take our duties seriously. It is not something to be mocked or made light of," he finished his speech with a kiss to the top of her head and a missive to go find Auntie Rose.

Alice stayed frozen in place while Nessie tore off in search of her most favorite aunt and Edward glared at both Alice and Jasper before stomping up the stairs to the library. Bella shrugged and followed him up. Alice turned to face Jasper who was moving to hold her.

"Alice," he said, but no other words came to mind so he pulled her into him.

"Oh Jas, please don't. I'm just going to go run for a while or maybe check in on Charlie. I just need to go," she said and sped off.

Jasper frowned. He knew it would be far more trouble than it was worth to go to Edward and slap him, but that didn't mean it wouldn't make him feel better. A derisive snort from the library meant Edward was aware of his thought. _Get out of my fucking head, dickweed_, he thought as loudly as he could.

Jasper didn't go after Alice, knowing she needed time to process the short and unexpected fight. He had a better idea and consulted the internet. Within hours, his task was complete.

When Alice retrieved the newspaper the next morning, carefully wrapped inside was a perfectly sculpted set of replica vampire fangs.

**October 2037**

"But Edward apologized for that," Alice said. Jasper was taken aback.

"When did he do that?" he asked, searching his memory. Alice brightened.

"Oh he must have heard our whole conversation because the next morning he gave me a set of fangs," she said, smiling.

"But he didn't talk to you about it?" Jasper asked, his face betraying nothing.

"No," she said, "but you know what he's like. He hasn't been wrong the entire time we've known him. The gesture was sweet, though. I figured he just didn't want to admit he was rude and overprotective," she said with a shrug. She was sitting up now and wasn't quite as tense as she had been.

"If that's the worst fight you can think of then no one could have seen this coming, not even me. I mean, it's not like anyone made a conscious decision to start World War III in our house, right?" she asked, looking up at him with palpable relief.

Jasper's heart fell and his mind raced. _Well, shit. She never could see just how selfish Edward is capable of being. That was MY sweet gesture, not his. Do I tell her? Do I chip away at her hero-worship? _

"Alice," he began, cursing Edward into oblivion, "actually, I remember that day differently."

***

_Next time: Alice sees her sister in a vision. Her really, really dead sister._


	3. Chapter 3: Interlude, 1921

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, I had a bit of a block. The next chapter should be up tomorrow. Reviews? Bueller?

****

_Benachi Avenue  
Biloxi  
October 1921_

_Dearest Mary Alice,_

_ I still cannot believe that you are gone. Every day it seems I find some new gossip or news or amusement that I long to tell you. I expect you to return from the shore almost every minute. I think of you every time I get one of those infernal shells stuck in my shoe. I suppose you won't remember, but __this is a daily vexation of mine and one you took great amusement in. It does not do to dwell on such things but I cannot help but grieve. Do you really not remember us? Are you well? _

_ Mama has taken to her bed, as much for the benefit of Mrs. Bergeron and her fine ladies as for the sake of her own grief. Papa has forbidden any mention of you and spends a great deal of time with his accounts and bourbon._

_ It is the sweetest agony to know you are alive. I should not and henceforth shan't burden you any more with my sorrow. How it thrills me to know that you will read these words! You say you will not remember a thing and I am at a loss as to where I should begin our story. Our plans are too great to contain in this one entry but sister, what plans they are! _

_ Miss Rachel calls for dinner now. I feel I can face anything, even our family with this secret burning in my heart. I will be brave for you, dear sister. _

_ -C_


	4. Chapter 4: Fights and fallouts

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews so far. I really appreciate them! As always, I own nothing, but I really enjoy playing with my two favourite characters. This chapter picks up right after the "fang incident" discussion.

****

Jasper waited in silence as Alice processed a revised version of their recent history. He could almost hear the years spinning through her mind. He immersed himself in her rapidly changing emotions and picked up, for the first time, the red thread of anger.

"I'm not sure why, but this changes everything," she said, flatly.

They had moved to the front porch. Jasper was sitting on the steps, his long legs splayed out, absentmindedly dissecting a dandelion. Alice sat unmoving in the porch swing, her eyes unfocused, her mind racing. Jasper turned to face her.

"Alice, it doesn't, really," he said. "It just means that you've loved them so much that you were utterly blind to their faults," he said, his face softening. "Typically oblivious to flaws of your loved ones."

"You've got plenty of flaws," she muttered, frowning. Jasper's answering laugh startled a nearby flock of birds into flight.

"I just mean that you were more blindsided than any of the rest of us by the argument. It was harder for you to see the cracks," he said. Alice was silent for a few moments more.

"Jasper, do you know what made them leave? Exactly?" she asked. Jasper wondered where the conversation was going.

"I suppose it was inevitable," he said, "after Renesmee made her little announcement." Actually, he thought it was likely inevitable from the day of Charlie's funeral. Ness's longing and restlessness had been almost impossible to tune out. He would not, however, remind Alice of that horrible day if he could help it. He continued.

"At least that's when your visions went all crazy. Let's see if I get this right. Renesmee announces that she's been in touch with one of Nahuel's sisters and that if she gives up the vampiric diet, she will age and die just like a normal person. Then Jacob steps in and says that the rest of wolf pack is going to give up immortality and settle down and Ness wants to join them. Then Edward sees the joy and pride in Rose's head and starts yelling at her, Bella starts yelling at Jacob, Emmett gets pissed at Edward and starts in on him, Ness starts crying, Jacob accuses Bella of being a "selfish hypocritical bitch", then you get overwhelmed by the visions, I lay down the calm and Carlisle threatens to go apeshit and throw us all out," Jasper said.

"Nearly," Alice said drily. "But if Carlisle lives another thousand years, he still will never have uttered the word 'apeshit'. Otherwise, that's about right."

"I'm working on his vocabulary," Jasper said, grinning, "we have to change with the times, you know." Alice rolled her eyes.

"Moving along, we then had a delightful week of more shouting, less apeshit and lots of crying. Then it all came to a head and we ended up with an Edward-and-Bella-shaped hole in the side of the house," he said. "The next day, Edward, Bella, Jacob and Ness left for parts unknown, Carlisle took Esme away to her island to recuperate, Rose and Em headed to South America to get some space and we stayed here. The end," he said, throwing down the shredded dandelion.

"Well, you glossed over a lot of fighting, but there is something I didn't tell you," Alice said, biting her lip. "That night, the night of the big fight, I had a vision. It was right after Rosalie said something about how a real mother would be happy for Renesmee," she paused. Jasper waited.

"In my vision, Bella attacked Rosalie and they both were seriously hurt. Emmett jumped in then Edward jumped in," Alice said, shuddering. "It was a bloodbath, Jasper, and it was horrible. Edward saw it as soon as I did and took off through the side of the house with Bella in his arms and managed to stop it happening," she said. Alice turned and brought her knees up to hug them to her chest. Jasper was speechless. He went to join her and pulled her onto his lap, gently rocking them in the swing. He kissed the top of her head and read her emotions. Relief [_at sharing the vision?_], sadness, anger [_at Bella? Rose?_], unease, longing [_for normality?, for Esme?_]. Gone was the merciless throbbing of exhaustion and he noted that she wasn't suffering a headache. He smirked when he felt the tiniest physiological response to the closeness of their embrace. Then he felt ashamed. Then pleased with himself. Then he tried to focus. Then he remembered that Bella had nearly tried to kill Rosalie and all other thoughts fell away.

"Wow, did she--" he began.

"I really don't want to go into details. It was hard enough watching it the first time around," she said abruptly. They sat in silence for a while, Alice finally relaxing in his arms. He understood better, he thought, just how much she'd suffered. That day, the day Renesmee decided to leave their family, Alice had been paralyzed by their instantly divergent futures. Her visions had overwhelmed her, her fatigue exacerbated by the fluctuating inclusion of the wolf pack. And now he saw that she had borne the burden of seeing the worst possible outcomes. He pulled her closer to him, longing for the power to fix this horrible situation.

With her anger, however, he felt a profound sense of relief. In the nearly two months since the Cullens had gone "on vacation," he'd become a worried extension of her body. _His_ Alice resented his overprotection but the fragile creature who'd replaced her relied upon it. Normally, she would have dismissed his constant watchfulness and protectiveness as the overreaction of a fool, but nothing about this Alice was normal. The Alice who felt exhausted and suffered crippling headaches was so far from what Jasper knew that he'd nearly driven himself insane with worry. Now, Alice was mad. Mad was good, mad was strong, mad meant that at least some of her self-blame had fallen away. He could have danced with joy. Instead, he held his wife, letting the sensation of her soft skin mingle with the newly vibrant flavor of her emotions, and he lost himself in relief and Alice.

****

The sun set. He had relaxed into the closest thing to sleep and had been thinking about, of all things, the Texas sky of his youth. He was thinking about how much he wanted to see it again through his extraordinary new eyes. His mother loved to look at the stars and they used to lie in the grass, being eaten alive by mosquitoes and she would tell him the names of the planets and constellations. How she would have loved to see them as he could now see them. He was drifting lazily through these thoughts when he was nearly overturned in the porch swing.

Alice sat bolt upright. "Did you see that?" she gasped.

"See what?" Jasper asked, still absentmindedly playing with her short hair.

"That person…thing," she said.

"The only person-thing I see is you," he said, smiling down at her.

"No, you ass, it looked like, well, my sister. My _real_ sister," she said, uncertainty pulsating from her.

"Was it a ghost?" he asked, surprised by his own seriousness.

"Don't be stupid, there are no such things as ghosts," she said, indignant.

"Says the vampire," he said. Eye roll of epic proportions.

Alice got up, breathing deeply, reaching out with all of her senses. Trees, Jasper, dirt, frogs, nothing smelled out of order. She scanned every direction and saw nothing in the twilight that didn't belong. She closed her eyes and searched the future. It was an undefined haze of pictures, mostly of Jasper's face. There was no fear, no danger, nothing evil lurked in their immediate future. Confounded, she sat on the porch steps, frowning.

Jasper didn't seem to be taking it seriously but she was sure that she had seen a face. Cynthia's face. That was the other thing bothering her. She'd never seen her sister's face but the pang of recognition was undeniable. She _knew_ it was her sister with the same unshakeable certainty that she knew it had been real. It was impossible, but as Jasper had oh-so-helpfully pointed out, it was no more impossible than a vampire who could see the future. And how could she explain away the feelings of urgency and the overwhelming fear that she had left something undone? Something unfinished.

"Was it a vision?" Jasper asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"No, it was different," she said, "my visions are like looking through a window, they're in context. This was a face, a person, standing in the yard." Jasper was immediately up and searching for danger, the swing swaying violently in his wake.

"Don't worry, what ever it was isn't here anymore," she said, reaching for his hand. "Let's go inside, I want to make some calls then maybe watch a movie or something. There's only so much self-examination I can stand."

Jasper hesitated in the doorway while Alice skipped upstairs to retrieve her cell phone from its charger. He gave the yard one last distrustful scan before joining her in the living room. She was standing in front of the television, glaring at their movie collection with a critical eye. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck.

"Shall I light a fire?" he murmured into her ear.

"No, I don't think so," she said, brightly. Suddenly, he was holding onto nothing and his laughing wife called out to him from the other side of the room.

"I didn't want you getting too comfortable, Jasper, I've got to make these calls," she said and tossed her phone at him. He was elated that her fixation with human comfort seemed to be ebbing but was disappointed at the lost opportunity. He caught the phone and looked at her quizzically. She stiffened.

"I'm not ready to talk to them yet, please call for me," she pleaded.

"Of course," he said, a little taken aback, "where should I start?"

"Try Carlisle's satellite phone first," she said. She was sitting on the kitchen bar, her legs swinging aimlessly below her. He did as told and started dialling.

"Stop!" she shouted. Jasper froze, finger poised over the call button.

"I changed my mind," Alice said, "I want to talk to Rose instead." Jasper suspected that she was up to something, but decades spent with Alice had taught him that it was best not to question her.

"Okay," he said, "Rose it is." He once again started typing in numbers. Alice closed her eyes. As before, she shouted for him to stop before he pressed the button to connect the call.

"Let me guess," he said, "you want me to call Edward instead?" Alice nodded. Jasper tried to clear his mind and focused on what he would say when Edward answered the phone. After six digits, she stopped him again.

"That will do," she said softly. Jasper crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Alice didn't meet his eyes.

"Carlisle would have answered. He would have asked you about me and if anyone else had been in touch," she said. She frowned.

"He seemed really worked up about that Civil War book he gave you. He asked you a lot of questions about it. Esme," Alice said and stopped. She sighed. "Esme is worried sick about all of us and she isn't doing very well. Carlisle is concerned about how Edward and Bella are getting along with Jacob and Ness. They called him a few weeks ago to let him know that they were in Scotland and planning to visit Siobhan in Ireland for a few weeks. Carlisle is worried that they're going to keep fighting and upset the Irish coven. He would have said that Esme was out hunting but really she would have been standing next to him, listening. She just doesn't want to give us anything else to worry about," she finished. Her face mirrored the sadness and pain that Jasper felt weighing down her mind.

"Well, what about Rose and Emmett?" he asked, hoping that that conversation went better. Would go better? Would have gone better? Thankfully, Alice smiled.

"Oh, those two are doing so well. They're so good for each other," she said, her face made more lovely by her sweet smile. Jasper's breath caught in his throat.

"Let's see. Emmett had loads of new ideas for some new water sport/Trivial Pursuit combination game. After the two of you finished going on like a pair of children, he would have asked to speak to me. Rosalie would have been out in the village, and he would have told me about how shattered she had been, how worried she was and how eager to get home she is. He is thinking about coming back early, if we don't mind," she said.

Jasper couldn't contain a huge smile.

"You know," Alice said, thoughtfully, "Rose has a hard time with all of us around. She always feels like she has to be perfect or at least seem perfect. I think the best thing in the world was for her to be alone with Em for a while. He seemed so relaxed and if anything, they're even more in love," she said. It was Jasper's turn to roll his eyes. Alice made a face at him.

"And what about Hurricane Edward?" he asked. Alice ignored the dig and shook her head.

"You know I can't see them if Jacob is there," she said. She started wandering back to the movie collection.

"I guess that means they haven't killed each other yet," he said, his voice trailing off as his poor choice of hyperbole dawned on him. He grimaced, waiting to feel Alice's sadness at her remembered vision but he felt nothing. Well, not nothing, he realized, she seemed to be wavering between fear and annoyance.

"Alice," he shouted, not seeing her in the living room, "are you okay?" He rushed through to the study. Alice was standing, horror-struck, staring at one of the computer screens.

"Did you," she started, her voice strangled by fear. She cleared her throat. "Did you turn the computer on?"

"No, I haven't used it for a while, why?" he asked. She pointed at the screen and he moved to stand behind her.

He saw, at once, the source of her fear. The computer was on and the word processing program was open. A document filled the screen. Repeated hundreds, maybe thousands of times was a single phrase:

_I forgive you._


End file.
